Song of the Spirits (12 page)

Gwyneira shrugged in resignation. “She puts a lot of value on her appearance. And Miss Witherspoon supports her in that.”

Fleurette rolled her eyes. “I’d fire this Miss Witherspoon first thing.”

As Gwyneira readied herself for a dispute with her daughter like the one she had been having with James for years, she warmed up more and more to Helen’s suggestion. Some time in England could only do Kura good! If she was still too young for the conservatory, she could probably find a girls’ school. Gwyneira thought of Kura’s reaction to uniforms and a strict schedule. Would Kura not hate her for the rest of her life?

William arrived punctually, and his second look at Kura left him just as awestruck as the day before. What was more, this time the girl was not wearing a simple riding outfit but an elegantly tailored dress, red with colorful flourishes. The luscious colors suited her, making her skin look even more radiant and creating a pleasing contrast to her luxurious black hair. She was wearing her hair parted down the middle; Kura had braided a few strands on each side of her face and tied the braids together at the back of her head. The simple hairstyle emphasized her classically beautiful features: her high cheekbones, enticing eyes, and generally exotic mystique. William Martyn could have fallen on his knees before so much beauty.

The rules of decorum dictated, however, that he look after Elaine first, since she had been assigned to him as a dining partner. Because she would already be cooking for so many anyway, Fleurette had begged Helen and her longtime friend Leonard McDunn, the police constable, to join them, so that she would have some of her own friends there. As the stocky, mustached Leonard led Helen very attentively to the table, William hurried to do likewise with Elaine. George, who had lost all interest in his beautiful cousin, was to be Kura’s dinner partner. As he adjusted her chair, William realized with delight that George had set her directly across from him.

“Have you habituated yourself to Queenstown yet, Miss Warden?” he asked when decorum finally permitted general table conversation.

Kura smiled. “Please, call me Kura.” Her voice transformed even the simplest sentence into the melody of a song all her own. Even Leonard McDunn looked up from his appetizer when the girl responded. “And, to answer your question, I’m accustomed to the expanse of the plains. The landscape here is lovely, but its vibrations are completely different.”

Gwyneira frowned.
Vibrations
? Elaine and George each stifled a giggle.

William beamed. “Oh, I know what you mean. Every landscape has its own melody. Sometimes, in my dreams, I hear Connemara sing.”

Elaine cast a confused glance at him.

“So you’re from Ireland, young man?” Leonard asked, clearly trying to move the conversation back to a more general plane. “What’s going to come out of this Home Rule Bill that everyone is talking about? And what is the situation in the country? You appear to have the greatest rabble-rousers under control, of course. The last I heard of the Fenians, they were calling for an invasion of Canada to set up Ireland anew over there. A harebrained scheme, if you ask me.”

William nodded. “I agree with you there, sir. Ireland is Ireland. You cannot rebuild it somewhere else.”

“Ireland has a musical range all its own,” Kura said. “Its melodies are melancholy, but display a stirring merriness here and there.”

Elaine wondered whether Kura, too, practiced the art of
whaikorero
. Or had she read that sentence somewhere?

“A sometimes heartbreaking merriness,” William affirmed.

“Well, as long as the support for the law doesn’t succeed in changing the upper house’s mind,” Ruben opined, trying to get back to Leonard’s topic.

“Which reminds me…” Fleurette joined the discussion using the sweet, innocuous tone she always used when the spy within her awoke. “Leonard, have you ever heard anything about an attempt on the life of Mr. Morley of Blackburn? Ireland’s chief secretary?” She watched William out of the corner of her eye as she asked the question.

The young man almost choked on his piece of roast. Elaine didn’t miss his reaction either.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Martyn?” she asked with concern.

William waved the question off impatiently.

The constable shrugged. “Oh Fleur, there’s always something happening in that country. From what I understand, they’re always arresting would-be terrorists of one kind or another. I occasionally receive wanted posters when the boys get away. But we haven’t nabbed any of them here. They all go to America, and normally they come to their senses there. Childish antics—thank God without any serious consequences in the last few years.”

William exploded. “You see the fight for a free Ireland as a childish antic?” he asked furiously.

Elaine laid her hand on his arm. “Oh dear, that’s not what he meant. Mr. Martyn is a patriot, Mr. McDunn.”

William shook her off.

Leonard laughed. “Most Irish are. And they have our sympathy without question, Mr. Martyn. But that’s precisely why one can’t go around shooting people or blowing them up! Think of the bystanders who so often become casualties.”

William did not respond further. It occurred to him that he was well on his way toward behaving poorly.

“So you’re a freedom fighter, William?” Kura-maro-tini suddenly asked, her big eyes seeking his. William could not tell whether he melted under her gaze or grew by leaps and bounds.

“I wouldn’t necessarily put it that way,” he murmured, trying for a humble tone.

“But William did stand up for the Land League,” Elaine explained proudly, marking her possession by letting her hand drift over to his arm. Callie growled beneath the table. The puppy did not like it when someone touched her mistress, and the opposite was even worse. “For the tenants on his father’s farm.”

“Your father has a farm?” Gwyneira asked.

William nodded. “Yes, Mrs. McKenzie, he’s a sheep breeder. But I’m the younger son, so there is nothing for me to inherit. I have to set about making my own fortune.”

“Sheep. We have some of those ourselves,” Kura remarked, as though the animals were a burden.

Fleurette could not help but notice William’s rapt expression as Gwyneira went on to describe Kiward Station.

For Elaine, the evening dragged on just as the one before it had. She wasn’t usually bored when William was with her, but until that night he had always focused his attention entirely on her—making jokes, furtively brushing his leg against her under the table, or casually stroking her hand. That evening, he was fixated on Kura. Perhaps she should not have told him how much the girl got on her nerves; no doubt William now wanted to distract her. But he could at least have saved up a few kind words for his sweetheart!

Elaine comforted herself with the thought that she would be able to see him out after dinner. He would kiss her under the starry sky as he had many times before, and they would exchange a few intimate words. She would have to put Callie away first, however. The little dog always protested fervently whenever William got too close to her mistress.

If only Kura’s musical performance would end. As on the previous night, she played for the assembled family and guests, and William appeared to listen with genuine rapture. Kura played beautifully, without a doubt; Elaine had to grant her that. And that night, Kura was singing Irish songs—for William, it seemed. Elaine felt a pang of jealousy.

“Just sing along,” Helen said, noting Elaine’s growing frustration. “You know the songs too, after all.”

Elaine looked questioningly at Gwyneira, and she nodded.

“That would certainly sound very nice,” she said. Gwyneira would also have thought it sounded “nice” to let Callie howl along while Kura played the piano.

Elaine stood up bravely, got her bearings quickly, and then joined in on Kura’s recital of “Salley Gardens.” To Helen, it sounded very pleasing. Elaine’s clear soprano harmonized with Kura’s enticingly deep voice. And the girls looked very sweet together. The exotic, black-haired Kura and the petite, red-haired Elaine. The great poet Yeats had undoubtedly imagined just such a red-haired Irish girl when he had written the song’s lyrics. Helen said something to William, but he did not seem to hear her. He was too deeply entranced by the sight of the girls—or at least one of them.

Kura broke off after a few measures, however.

“I can’t sing when you can’t stay in tune,” she complained.

Elaine’s entire face flushed. “I…”

“It was an F-sharp, and you sang an F,” Kura continued mercilessly.

Elaine would have liked for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

“Kura, it’s a folk song,” Helen explained. “You don’t have to stick to the notes obsessively.”

“You can only sing correctly or incorrectly,” Kura insisted. “If she had sung a G or a G-sharp…”

Elaine returned to her seat. “Just sing alone then!” she said sullenly.

And Kura did.

The incident had sobered everyone up, all the more so because no one else had noticed Elaine’s small mistake. Fleurette silently thanked heaven that the visitors would be moving out the next day. Although she enjoyed having her mother stay with her, she had to admit that she liked Kura as little as she liked William. Which recalled to Fleurette’s mind the matter of the assassination attempt in Ireland. Had Ruben noticed William’s reaction when she’d brought it up?

As she saw William out, Elaine thought over her situation with him. He did finally put his arms around her, but it was not as intoxicating as usual and felt instead like he was simply doing his duty. And the beautiful words that he mustered for her did not excite her much either.

“That music… and my red-haired dear… I feel as though I’m in the Salley Gardens.” William laughed and kissed her softly. “It’s strange, those songs, they bring Ireland back to life for me.”

“The vibrations” was on the tip of Elaine’s tongue, but she held it back at the last moment. William was not to think she was making fun of him.

“I wish my country was free, and I could return.”

Elaine frowned. “Can you not return while the English administer it? They’re not looking for you, are they?”

William laughed, though it came out a bit forced. “Of course not. Where did you get that idea? I’d just rather not return to a land in chains.”